Two Weddings and a Massacre and a Funeral
by vechtkoe
Summary: When: Buffy Season 8, with the Twilight crisis festering towards outbreak. What: Spike is living the lonely London life after returning from his voyages with a spaceship run by bugs. Until: He gets invited to a most joyous occasion. (Writing began in 2012 and I'm almost finished. About 10 chapters so far.)


Cup of tea, cup of tea, almost got shagged, cup of tea. London life isn't what it used to be.

In fact, Spike has not had a good near-shag since the bug ship needed an emergency stop on that moon orbitting planet Nymphus. Just when he was getting ready to offer a particularly fine-looking specimen a fag, the bugs assumed that he was being hypnotised and they dragged him back to the ship. Admittedly, he himself had insisted that they undertake action if he appeared to be under any form of mind control. And admittedly, maybe he was, in a testosterone-ish kind of way.

It's been a week since the ship landed unobtrusively in Hyde Park. By night, of course, with the lights dimmed.

That's where the bugs dropped him off, leaving him with a comm device with which he would be able to keep in touch. He also took a few Earth antiques out of the ship's storage, which he pawned for a few months' worth of rent.

His temporary quarters are modest, to be Britishly understated about it. A study with a mattress on the floor, and a bathroom. But, as the saying goes for London estate, with great location comes tiny personal space. And at least the place is clean.

It's Monday and Spike is sat at his desk, pen in hand, meaning to draw out connections between certain demon mobilisations and army activity in the area. But for now, all he's got is four lines of poetry, full of vampiric longing.

He sighs, drops his pen, and looks up at the pin board on the wall. So far, it's mostly a shopping list of ancient texts that he means to filch off the Council. What he's heard and read so far sounds incredibly ominous. To the point that Spike thinks he could use a friend. He leans his chair back and balances on its two back legs, boots resting against the edge of the desk, while he plays with the glowing blue talisman that he normally carries in his coat pocket. Illyria gave it to him as a means to summon her in time of need. It is actually an old tequila bottle opener that she enchanted for this purpose. All he needs to do is hold it in his hand and speak her holiest of names four times.

Something makes Spike look away from the mesmerisingly glowing bottle opener. A small envelope is lying under the door.

Why hadn't he heard it being slipped there? Why hadn't his vampire senses picked up the scent of the deliverer? Some sort of stealth spell? Oh wait, that's right. Spike takes the plugs of his iPod out of his ears and the cotton buds out of his nose that he's worn since the toilet backed up.

He picks up the envelope, which appears to be made of a kind of paper-like leaf. Smells familiar. He opens it and takes out a small folded card. On the front cover, an image of two honeycomb cells joined together.

The frustration of the slow Monday melts right off Spike's brow and he smiles, unfolding the card.

_'Announcing the joining in eternal companionship of Bertrand (born Xghalzgzzhf of Bwzzgz) and Barrett Glover (born Barrett Glover of Yaksh)._

_'In recognition of his Earth duties and tireless dedication to our culture, our noble king Spike is invited as a Guest of Highest Honour and as such is relieved of his duties as Oath-Taker for this occasion, allowing him to enjoy the splendour of Full Luxury. Hail!_

_'Earth time: Whens Day the twenty-and-seven of May A.D._

_'Location: the ship'_

One of his bugs is marrying Barrett? Marine demon Barrett? Spike blinks and takes in this implausible combination for a couple of seconds. Then he starts thinking of a suitable wedding present. He needed some fresh air anyway. This apocalypse can wait on him for a few days.

Spike gets his black leather duster off the rusty hook in the wall, then notices that it has started to rain outside his little window. He groans in exasperation, remembering that he had used his little foldable umbrella to slaughter a Nuggahl demon in the underground last weekend. Stupid. He should have picked up a new one on his way home, or maybe put more effort into unwedging the old one from the demon's ribcage.

He shrugs, puts on a hoodie, then dons his duster and leaves his room.

After descending along the tiny steps of the staircase, he exits the flat and steps out into the London rain. The sky has an orange dusky glow just over the horizon. Many vampires choose to wait until it's completely dark before they go out. Spike reckons those vampires are a bunch of jittery Coldplay-listeners.

He flips the hoodie over the top of his head, aware that it looks a bit silly popping out from under the neck of his duster. But he's back on Earth on a low profile, so he doesn't want to show off his trademark hair and chiselled features too much.

Most shops are closed by now, but Spike knows a few spots that aren't in any tourist guide. But what the bloody hell do you give to a space bug and a marine demon? Hopefully, he'll think of something before he has to rely on suggestions from a merchant troll.

If they don't have anything at the night market, he may have to hop down to Penstemon Port. That place is like one big interdimensional gift shop.

Spike takes the Hammersmith line, gets off at Wood Lane, then makes his way to a hidden alleyway entrance into the abandoned Shepherd's Bush station. It smells of piss. A good, familiar London type of piss.

A pair of fairly human-looking Gise demons, dressed in official uniforms, stand guard at the entrance to the platform.

Spike takes his hood off and walks up towards the entryway. "Evening, gentlemen."

The guards acknowledge him with a barely perceptible nod of the eyelids, and they let him pass.

The silence filling the abandoned and disrepaired platform hall is a clever trick done with structural acoustics and a bit of low-maintenance magic. Anyone other than human will be able to hear the distinct murmur of bargaining and smalltalk echoing off the dark brown brick walls. And then it's just a matter of following that sound until you slip through a simple intraspatial gateway that occasionally gets moved around.

No flash, no pop as Spike walks through the gate, just a hard cut into a hidden reality construct. He walks into a huge multi-story market square, stalls up to five floors up on suspended platforms. The dazzlingly beautiful starry sky above does not feature any constellations familiar to Earth. Then again, many of the punters aren't too terrestrial either.

"Excuse me." mumbles Spike as he bumps into something looking like an inverted carrot ambling around on three multi-jointed legs. It blinks at him with five perfectly round eyes, then it moves on, carrying along a leather bag that twitches and pokes.

Some of the food stalls smell fantastic. Others make him wish he had brought along his nose plugs.

A sort of gigantic stick insect weaves its way through the crowd, enthusiastically patting shoulders and complimenting bodily odours as it hands out flyers.

"Love the hair, blood brother!" it buzzes and clacks at Spike, quickly handing him one of the sheets before skittering past him.

"Uh, yeah. Love the... carapace." says Spike, glancing at the paper. It appears to be an advert for a pet auction held on the second southern level. "Hmm." Spike decides to go have a look, stuffing the flyer in his pocket and heading for the vertical teleport pads.

Spike materialises on the second market level. It is basically a very big slab of stone floating in mid-air, with yet more market stalls and tents scattered over it. Some of the more raunchy stuff is happening up here too.

Inside one tent, a well oiled-up Sahirto demon lad is dancing for an attentive mixed audience.

Elsewhere, two devil girls are lying on top of each other, using their tails for all sorts of purposes not commonly thought of.

Spike lights up a fag and decides he should pop by level 2 more often. But for now, he has a quest to tend to. Scanning the grounds, he spots a particularly large tent that has a sign posted outside it, depicting the interdimensional symbols for 'auction' and 'pet'. To his relief, the symbols for 'negative' and 'smoking' are not mentioned.

As he passes through the entrance flaps, a waft of straw tinged with dung meets his already conflicted nostrils. Apart from that, it's surprisingly quiet. He'd expected at least a baboon shriek or something. But no, this auction really seems to be all about nice, docile, utterly alien pets.

There are cages everywhere, strongly varying in size and most of them cloaked.

On an elevated stage in the centre, a reasonably reasonable-looking merchant troll is running the ceremony, complete with gavel-banging and gavel-pointing. "Sold to Mister Lwo for a hundred and fifty quid!" he rumbles. A cage containing a Plutonian poodle is abruptly teleported off-stage, making way for the next sale.

Spike takes a drag on his cigarette and blows a neat smokescreen around himself. Just then, the next cage pops onto the stage out of nowhere. A bang of the merchant troll's gavel echoes through the tent. "Item number fifteen!"

Spike squints and waves away his own smoke, trying to see what's in the cage. Then it moves into the light, announcing itself with a gentle whining sound.

It is a kitten. Except it has six legs and it's about the size of a fully grown housecat. When seen from certain angles, its brilliantly white fur seems to have an ice-like blue glow to it. Also, instead of a single tail, it appears to have a bundle of very thin tentacles that ripple and wave hypnotically.

"A Yuggoth lion cub!" the merchant troll announces. "Aged six Earth weeks and carefully weaned off its mother, this tasty little morsel will be a culinary delight to anyone following an intergalactic feline diet."

Some murmurs rise from the crowd.

"Bidding starts at twenty quid!" roars the troll, accentuating this with another bang of his gavel.

The Yuggoth kitten seems quite excited and it leaps to and fro inside its cage, trying to take in all of the spectators that are gathered around the stage. It appears to lock eyes with Spike for a moment, followed by a little sideways tilt of its head. Then it mews inquisitively.

"Oh come on." Spike sighs and raises his hand.

"Twenty pounds bid by Billy Idol in a trenchcoat!" the merchant troll bellows. "Anybody else hungry?"

Another hand is raised and a female voice says she bids twenty-five.

Spike groans inwardly, then calls out in the direction of the other bidder's voice: "Look lady, I know where this is going! But I've got plenty of dough on me, so let's keep this quick and simple! I'm not leaving without the kittie!"

"Forty pounds." the female voice answers.

Spike grits his teeth. "Bugger."

"Forty pounds bid by the girl in the too-short t-shirt!" the merchant troll roars. "Anyone going over forty? Anyone?"

Spike drops his cigarette to the floor and puts it out with his boot, then starts making his way to the stage. When he gets too near, an enormous, sad-eyed elephantine demon blocks his path. "I'm sorry, friend. No further than here." it says in a hushed, fluting voice.

Taken aback by the almost eternal-looking eyes of the elephant-like guard, Spike stutters: "I... I don't mean to do damage to anyone, big man. But that kitten deserves better than ending up in a stew. I mean, look at it!"

The elephant man blinks slowly, unfazed. "Yeah, what would you do with it? Turn it into a fondue?"

The gavel bangs. "Sold to the little girl for forty pounds!"

Spike decides not to fight the elephantian. Instead, he slips underneath its enormous right arm and dives onto the stage, straight for the kitten. The Yuggoth cub meows excitedly at him, as he clutches at the door of the cage. Doesn't quite budge. Now what? The cage is too awkward and heavy to take along in its entirety.

Then someone punches him awfully hard on the side of the face. Ow.

Can't have been the elephantine bloke. Too slow to have made it onto the stage so soon. Spike turns to look.

"Hands off my kittie." the girl says, her too-short t-shirt revealing an ornate tattoo that spills out of her belly button and across her right hip. Her brown hair is tied into two buns, and her dark green eyes aren't in a joking mood.

Spike rubs his sore temple and takes a step back, making sure there is just enough distance between him and her so that she cannot swing him another one of those. Then he frowns. "You're no demon."

The girl takes a step forward. "I've got a little demon in me." A wooden stake has appeared in her hand. "And you've just made your final bid."

"Whoa! Slayer! Wait, wait, wait, I'm on your side!" says Spike, holding out his hands. "Assuming you're not the psychotic kind."

The Slayer flips the stake in her hand and takes a very swift jab directed at Spike's chest. He dodges it easily and grabs hold of her wrist, swings her sideways, sending her crashing into the bulk of the elephant demon who had just finally managed to ascend the stage.

She's back on her feet in less than a second, throwing the stake at Spike, who easily dodges it again, but she follows it up with a decent kick to his stomach.

"Oofff.." Spike reels back, but then stands firm again and grins. He has to suppress a small urge inside himself that is really wanting to turn this into a complete market brawl. Instead, he shouts: "This kitten belongs to no one!"

"At least you've got that right." the girl pants, fists raised. "It's definitely not your midnight snack."

"Have you even heard of me?" says Spike, exasperated. "Hint: it starts with an S and ends with me rescuing this kitten."

The Slayer squints for a few seconds, then looks hesitant, as if in disbelief. "Xander?"

Spike opens and closes his mouth like a fish before sputtering: "What... How in any possible universe would I be... Arrrgh, forget it!"

"Well, I dunno! We've just had a lot of mind swaps happening in the past year." the girl responds, squinting again. "Just in case you are on my side, behind you."

"What? Oh." says Spike as he ducks just in time to evade the tree-like arm of the elephantine guard swinging at his head from behind. He quickly turns to face the giant. "Look, mate. You seem like an agreeable sort. The girl and I are both here to protect the space kittie. Why don't you cut us a break?"

The elephant man's eyes look tired, but he is plenty alert. "Believe me, friend, I would. But if I pull anything, that merchant troll only has to press a button and I'm ivory dust."

"This merchant troll?" the Slayer says from somewhere behind the auction master, who goes "Uuurrhh" and topples forward, crashing face down onto the stage with a stake in his back. The crowd cheers and applauds enthusiastically.

"Huh. Nice." the elephant man says, still looking sad.

"Well, you're free now, right?" the girl says to him, looking worried.

"Yeah, thanks! Sorry, my eyes just always look sad. I am actually really excited about this." The elephant man waves his enormous arms around in an effort to appear effusive. Then he stops and extends his trunk towards her and Spike. "Oh, by the way, I am Hawon Guul. Who are you guys?"

"I'm Courtney. Slayer of the West End patrol, Animal Protection Department." the girl steps forward and gently shakes Hawon's trunk with her hand.

"Name's Spike. Vampire with a soul looking for a wedding pressie." says Spike.

"Wow, so why could you tell him that in one sentence and not me?" Courtney looks annoyed at him.

"You Slayer types suffer from short-term amnesia, right?" Spike looks annoyed back at her. "You were too busy failing at st–"

"Fuck! You're Spike!" she suddenly says, her eyes no longer squinting but wide open. "I'm so sorry, man. I heard a lot about you, but I just didn't think I'd actually meet you. Are you really Spike?"

"Are you really not Harmony?" Spike asks.

"What?" Courtney looks confused.

"Nevermind." Spike smirks. "Let's sort out this mess. Then we can continue the informalities."

Various punters are trying to break the locks on the remaining pet cages. So far, the magic of the locks appears to be strong enough to withstand their prying claws. But the animals inside are pacing around, looking worried.

Spike steps up to the elephant demon. "Hawon, where do all those cages get teleported to?"

"To the tent next door. There, the winning bidders can pick up their prize." Hawon answers.

"Right. Can you or anybody reconfigure that telepad to send them somewhere else?" asks Spike.

"Wait a second." says Hawon. "Let me consult the technical staff." He slowly walks a couple of yards across the stage, then smashes his enormous fist right down through it. Reaching inside the hole, he fishes out a jittering little Grünberger demon who had been sitting in a small revolving chair at a complex-looking control panel below the stage. "Hello, Mert. Things have changed a bit." he booms menacingly.

"I don't care, I don't care, I don't care!" the gangly little demon squeaks. "You're boss. Tell me job!"

Spike puts a hand on Hawon's massive shoulderblade. "Go easy on him, mate. That's a Grünberger. Grünbergers don't actually know loyalty. All they want to do is work compulsively. Just tell him what you want done."

"Huh." says Hawon. "Very well. Mert, get down there and set pad destination to..."

Courtney cuts in: "Make it out to Norridge Boarding School, on the Earth side of the tracks."

"Yes sir, yes madam!" little Mert squeals with delight and eagerly jumps back down into the hole in the stage.

"This is great!" cheers Courtney. "My department has been trying to quietly slip these animals through the net for months now. This is so much more efficient!"

"Well, I feel all noble and tingly." says Spike. "Or maybe that's me remembering those devil girls." He pauses for a moment to flick his lighter open and fire up a fresh cigarette. "Oh, let it be clear that I am taking the kitten. Rest of the zoo is all yours."

Mert's voice shrills out of the hole: "Telepad destination has been set according to your wishes! Awaiting further instructions! Please!"

"Hold on one sec." grunts Spike as he pulls the Yuggoth kitten's cage off and away from the telepad. Then he kneels down in front of the bars. The kitten is now quizzically looking him in the eye, its tail-tentacles waving left and right. "All clear." he says, unable to suppress a little smile at the curious alien pet.

Hawon hops off the stage, hitting the ground with a resounding thud. "We had best hurry up. The police will probably catch wind of this soon." he says, as he starts picking up the cages two at a time, carrying them onto the stage, and sending them through the telepad.

"Oi, Hawon! I can't move this thing around all by myself!" shouts Spike, tugging at the bars of the kitten's cage, only shifting the magically gravitated object half a foot at a time.

Hawon interrupts his rescue mission for two seconds, grasps the metal bars and pulls them slowly apart. "Have fun with her, Mister Spike. And thank you." he nods respectfully and then quickly resumes his pet-saving duties.

"Er, I didn't really mean... Can it be carried... I mean, does it scratch?" says Spike, uncertainly holding out his arms for the cub, which is still just sitting in the cage, tilting its head now and then.

Courtney kneels down beside him. "You have to be natural about it. It senses that you're feeling a bit tweaky. Just talk to it as if you were talking to a child you love."

A pause, then Spike talks to the kitten again. "Come on out, you git!"

The Yuggoth cub gets up, hops out of its cage and starts weaving itself around and between Spike's legs. Then it looks up at him, eyes closing slightly, opens its mouth and belches loudly.

"Oh, that's good!" Courtney squeals. "That's sort of how they purr, you see. This one here likes you."

Spike slowly starts bringing his hand to the kitten's head in order to pet it. Impatiently, the kitten rams the top of its head up into the palm of Spike's approaching hand and lets out an endless stretch of a belch.

"What a charmer." Spike says, raising an eyebrow. "So, can I pick it up? Or is it going to follow me around?"

Hawon shoves another pair of caged animals through the telepad and tells Spike: "She will do whatever the fuck she wants. We are all free!"

"So you're a girl, aren't you?" says Spike, petting the kitten under her chin. "Want to go back home to Yuggoth? Wherever that is?"

"Fuck no!" shouts the kitten in a strange voice.

"Aaaah!" exclaims Spike, flinching back.

Courtney claps her hands. "Cool!"

The kitten leaps around excitedly and continues: "Yuggoth is bloody cold and there's bugger all to do out there. Let's get the fuck out of this shithole and hit the pub."

Hawon explains: "Ah yes, the thing about Yuggoth lions is that they learn their intellectual skills by telepathic link with their parents. Congratulations with your adopted daughter, Mister Spike."

Spike looks quite stunned.

"Bugger! Shite!" the kitten yelps, then belches.

"This is soooo weird and cute!" coos Courtney. "Can I teach her words too?"

Spike scoops up the cursing little lioness in his arms protectively. "Sorry, luv. Don't want to fill up her kittie brain too much already. This girl is going to make a bug and his boy very happy."

"Aww." Courtney pouts. "Well, I hope there's another one among the cages. Gonna adopt it to bits if there is!"

"Good luck with that." shrugs Spike. "Say, why don't we give Hawon a hand?" He gestures at the gigantic elephant man who is swatting some particularly clingy looters away from the remaining cages.

"Oh yeah." she says, then leaps off the stage and karate kicks one of them in the throat.

Spike stays on the stage, muttering under his breath: "And by 'we', I mean 'you'." He pets the kitten in his arms and looks around the tent, looking for the best way out of this auction-turned-riot. He spots an exit flap at the back and starts heading for it, carrying the kitten with him.

"What is a pub?" the kitten asks, looking up at him.

"Later, pet." says Spike. "We've got a tube to catch."

Ten minutes later, Spike is back on the Hammersmith line, east-bound this time.

Across from him, a middle-aged woman keeps glancing over her magazine at the cat-sized bulge under his black leather duster. Spike throws her a mildly menacing look, hoping it'll make her mind her business.

An extended belching sound begins croaking out from under his duster and Spike puts his hand on top of the bulge, making the cub stop purring.

The woman across frowns.

"Vindaloo." shrugs Spike.

A few stops later, the woman gets off, throwing him one last nervous look.

Spike meets her stare and raises his eyebrows. Nothing to see here, you nosey cow.

"Nosey cow." speaks the kitten in a muffled voice.

The doors close and the tube starts chugging forward again, leaving the perplexed-looking woman standing on the platform.

As soon as she's out of view, Spike peeks down into his duster. Two glowing feline eyes adoringly meet his.

"You've got to keep it down for now, pet. We don't want any more trouble in any more dimensions." he whispers at her.

The eyes blink at him, then close as the kitten starts dozing off.

"You're more of a handful than Angel was." he mutters with a faint smile.

Back in Spike's room, the kitten immediately starts inspecting the few pieces of furniture, brushing its tentacles along them.

"Don't wee on anything." Spike warns her as he hangs his duster, snatching the bug comm device out of the inner pocket. "Daddy has to make a call."

Silly bugs neglected to mention a time on their invitation. Spike turns on the palm-sized device and it whirrs to life with little green dots lighting up across the surface. A custom-designed 'Hail and Welcome, King Spike' message appears on the screen.

He brings the comm device closer to his lips and speaks: "Spike here. Anyone listening?"

"All Hail, Your Highness!" a voice immediately buzzes back at him. "This is bug number 36, assigned honourably to your dedicated communication!"

"That's great. At ease, number 36." says Spike. "Any word on the exact when and where of Bertrand's wedding?"

"Uhm." the bug voice responds hesitantly. "Your Highness, I will have to consult the wedding planner. Will you stand by while I contact her?"

"Just put her through to me directly, number 36." says Spike, keeping an eye on the kitten as it hops onto his desk and starts sniffing the paperwork.

"Uhm." the bug hesitates again. "Begging supreme forgiveness, Highness, but I don't know how to patch through calls. Shall I pass on her mobile number?"

Spike frowns. "Mobile? Which one of you has a mobile?"

"She is of Earth, Your Highness. In fact, she helped us compose your invitation." bug number 36 buzzes through the comm device. "You may reach her at 077 181 283."

"Eight... three... Got it." says Spike, jotting down the number. "Thanks, number 36. Spike out."

"Hail – " number 36 starts buzzing through the comm device just before Spike switches it off.

Five minutes later, Spike is back outside in a phone booth, rain spilling down the outside of the glass. He slips in a pound coin and dials the number.

"Hi, it's me! Who is this?" a fairly cheerful voice answers.

"Hello, Harmony." Spike sighs.

"Hello, stranger." she responds, then pauses. "Is this a perv call?"

"It might have been, once." Spike mutters.

"Who is this?" says Harmony, sounding a bit intrigued now.

"Spike." says Spike, swallowing the sarcastic reply he had on the tip of his tongue, knowing that it would have unnecessarily lengthened this torturous phone call.

"Spike?" squeaks Harmony. "Blonde Spike?"

"Last time I checked." grumbles Spike, then freezes. "Wait. There's another?"

"Oh, hee hee. Wait! This is black Spike trying to trick me, right?" Harmony playfully admonishes him.

"It's Spike." says Spike pointedly, very much meaning it.

A pause on the other end. Then: "Spike?"

"Yes, Harmony. Blondiebear." sighs Spike. "There, you made me say it."

"Ooooooooooooooooooohhhhh!" she deafens him. "Long time no snuggles, you bad man!"

"Yes, it's been heaven." groans Spike. "Now, listen carefully because I'm going to ask you a very important question. It's about the wedding."

"Shoot!" she says bouncily. "Wait! What wedding?"

"Barrett the barnacle and Bertrand the bug. Which wedding do you think?"

"Ahhh god, yeah, they're adorable!" she continues her squeal-fest. "And hey, don't you insult me by thinking that those are the only cross-demon party in my schedule. This international vampire socialite is on fire, baybee!"

"If only." says Spike. "Anyways, you may recall having sent me an unusually dadaist note this afternoon."

Angel is touching up his hair. Literally, in fact. His lack of a reflection has always cruelly collided with his vanity. So here he is, going at it by touch, hoping by the gods of hair gel that it will stay straight.

Much like his path is.

There must be no doubt. Except there is. There is always doubt.

For instance, Angel still isn't sure whether he is going to accept this wedding invitation. His source has informed him that a very special someone is to attend it as well. Someone who has always been a master of sowing doubt in him. If he can face up to this person, then he will be ready for anything.

No matter how much doubt they will try to sow, he will finally, finally reap.

"So sorry, Spikey!" Harmony whines through the phone. "I'm sure I double-checked that everything was there..."

"That's alright, luv. These capers of yours form a soothing and reassuring presence in my universe." Spike drones patiently, jotting down the time of the wedding.

"Yeah... uh, you too!" says Harmony.

"Take care." says Spike and hangs up.

It's still raining feebly outside the phone booth. Spike watches the rain for a minute, then pushes open the door and heads back to his flat across the road.

Back inside, Spike is greeted with a gentle belch as the Yuggoth cub comes striding towards him.

"You're not going to do that all night, are you?" he sighs, taking off his duster and hoodie.

"Shite?" the kitten mewls, eyes big and curious and deeply orange.

"I'd rather you plunder the poetry section of my brain a bit. Like this, you're going to make the rudest wedding pressie ever." Spike tells the kitten while he takes off his boots.

Now just in his old white Crisis t-shirt and his camouflage trousers, he crashes down onto his mattress on the floor and lights up a slightly crooked cigarette. On his way to the phone booth, he had remembered a really good line for his poem that he thought that he had forgotten. But now it's gone again. Frustrating. Spike blames the brain interference caused by Harm's voice.

The kitten crouches its six feet down next to him on the mattress and contentedly closes its eyes. Spike pets her without looking.

He stares up at a crack in the ceiling until it becomes a river running through a snow white desert.

Spike dreams of Angel. Except Angel is now wearing a beret and a small Lenin-esque goatee. Spike tries to talk to him, but he can't. His words simply don't come out.

Spike reaches out to Angel, but he realises that he himself is incredibly tiny, and Angel is a colossus, towering up into the clouds.

The colossus ignores him and starts moving one titanic leg forward, easily crossing the continents in one step. Spike cannot even find himself in the dream anymore. There's only Angel.

And clinging desperately to Angel's right ankle is Hawon, the elephant man.

The kitten stirs. She opens one orange eye and sees her father, asleep with his mouth a little open. Stretching her six legs, she stealthily walks off the mattress and parades around the room.

An almost-full moon shines in through the little window. The cub sits down and stares at it.

Angel stares at the chessboard. He's never been much of a player, but it does look stylish in a mastermindy kind of way. And it is a reminder that every battlefield has a hidden organisation to it.

And if he should ever fail to find that organisation... well, he can always swipe the pieces off the board in an explosive, melodramatic tantrum.

Time for a little night-time exercise.

Spike wakes up just before dawn. The kitten is already up and it is staring at him from atop the desk.

"Morning, pet." Spike yawns. After uttering that last word, he suddenly realises something. "Hey... you hungry?" he asks the kitten.

The kitten squints at him with interest.

"Right." says Spike, getting up off the mattress. "Don't suppose you're one for Whiskas."

He shambles off to the bathroom, where he's got a small fridge plugged in. He opens the fridge and gets out two packs of pig's blood.

Back in the room, he tears one of them open with his teeth and holds it in front of the cub's nose. It sniffs tentatively for a second. Then it belches and grabs the pack with both of its foremost paws and starts gulping down the blood.

"Well, looks like we're both cursed, pet." says Spike, tearing the other pack open for himself. "Cheers."

After breakfast, Spike gets out the enchanted bottle opener.

"Illyria, Illyria, Illyria, and indeed, Illyria." he intones.

Nothing happens. Spike double checks to make sure he is holding the right opener.

The kitten tilts her head and says "Illyria."

As if somebody held a candle to a reel of film, a hole melts into the fabric of this London reality and Illyria comes stepping out of it. "You summoned me." she speaks, the gateway neatly closing behind her.

"I did, right?" says Spike. "Even though the kitten had the last word."

Illyria surveys the room. "You held the talisman. Therefore, you are the summoner. Is this your crypt?"

"It's more of a pit stop. How've you been, Blue Velvet?" Spike offers her a cigarette.

Illyria takes the cigarette and swallows it, appreciating the tangy molecular structure. "For the predominant part of my time, I have been meditating, sampling Italian culinary culture, and remotely conquering virtual worlds."

Spike puts a cigarette between his lips and lights up. "Slacking, ordering pizza, and playing World Of Warcraft?"

"It comforts me." says Illyria, now locking her bright blue eyes with those of the kitten. "I know it is merely designed to eleviate ennui among humans, but I find it brings balance to my unwanted presence on this plain."

"You mean it eleviates your ennui, luv." smirks Spike, always enjoying a good joust with the fallen goddess, even if just verbally. Actually, he sort of prefers it to just be verbally. The kind of bruises left by a bout with Illyria tend to stick around for months, even on vampire skin.

"Why do I want to crawl among worms?" the Yuggoth cub suddenly mews. It takes Spike a second to realise it is the kitten that spoke instead of Illyria putting on a silly voice.

"Oi! Don't you get too attached, pet." he says, picking up the kitten in his arms. "Tomorrow you're going to meet your proper new parents. Don't go getting yourself adopted now."

Then he catches a glance of something he hasn't seen very clearly in Illyria's face before. Embarassment.

Illyria sees that he sees it. "This creature mocks me." she says, now with a tone of wonder, even appreciation.

"Not really." says Spike, rubbing his knuckles against the kitten's furry cheek. "She just likes to get in people's heads, is all."

"I am aware of her species." Illyria says. "Normally, they don't seek the minds of higher beings. This one is different."

"Is she now?" beams Spike, looking into the kitten's eyes with pride. "Got us a little she-punk here, right? I would call you Sheena if I wasn't going to give you up to the groom and groom tomorrow." He then turns to Illyria again. "Speaking of which, that's why I called– summoned you."

"Are we to do violence?" Illyria inquires, a hint of eagerness in her big blue eyes.

"Quite not." says Spike. "Tomorrow, two good friends of mine are tying the knot. Or whatever their kind may be tying. You're my plus one."

"Tying the knot? Is this an execution?" Illyria asks.

"Opinions are divided on that." Spike sniggers.

"Sorry." Angel mutters, even though it wasn't his fault that the Fnec demon bumped into his shoulder. Why does he feel so apologetic today? Is it a kind of subconscious advance pennance for what he is planning to do?

Or is he just trying to stay out of potential fights in order to keep a low profile? Yeah, that's it. At least, that's the reason why he's going about in a mask. Nobody bats an eyelash at masks here at the London night market.

Damn it. The pet auction tent is closed. "These people aren't in the business of slave trade anymore." says a large elephantine demon, sitting outside the tent on top of an empty cage.

Pity. Angel was planning on getting the soon-to-be-wed couple an adorable puppy. But alas, not even demon markets are safe from PETA anymore. He sighs from behind the mask and walks back to the elevator pads.

Before he gets there, two red-skinned devil girls in bikinis pop up and flutter around him. "Greetings, big boy." one of them purrs.

"You look a bit stressed. Want to take it out on us?" the other one whispers seductively.

"Erm, no. No, thanks." Angel mutters. "I'm on a mission."

"Oooh, we do missionary." says devil girl #1.

"No, really." says Angel, trying to shake off the girls politely and low-profile-ly. "I can't. It's a sort of sacred quest."

"Oh, forgive us!" exclaim the devil girls. "Allow us to accommodate you!"

Their physical form instantly evaporates into that of a pair of milky-white-skinned angels with magnificent feathered wings and a set of slowly swirling halos hovering above their blonde heads. They're still wearing bikinis, except they're now white.

"That is... nice." sputters Angel. "But my quest is one of transcendantance. It is neither for good, nor evil."

"Transcendance." angel girl #2 corrects him.

"And we assure you that we can offer you plenty of it." angel girl #1 giggles, a white devil's tail suddenly flicking out from her backside and caressing his leg.

"I'm just looking for a wedding gift, girls." insists Angel, absentmindedly reminding himself to check his pockets after that little leg caress.

"You name it, we'll be it. Ooh!" squeals angel girl #2 as the other girl's tail sneaks into her bikini bottom.

Angel coughs and swallows. "Erm, I'm afraid the two gents involved are not of the... lady persuasion?"

"If we can't persuade them..." purrs angel girl #1.

"... we'll join them." finishes angel girl #2.

In an instant, it's two firm-bodied angelic boys hanging off Angel's shoulders.

"Wow, ha, erm.." says Angel, feeling something pressing against both his hips. "You are very flexible, heh. But if I told you the species of the loving couple, I don't think I'd want to be here for your next demonstration."

Then something dawns on Angel, while something else rises like the sun inside his trousers.

"Guys.. girls.." he says. "You have made some very convincing – oof! – points. I would like to enlist your services on an indefinite basis."

"Indefinite?" angel boy #1 murmurs, stroking a hand over Angel's chest.

"That's right. I want to buy the both of you out." says Angel, his mask now feeling more constrictive than ever. "You'll be my own private Angel Boys. Or Girls."

"You'll have to talk to our current employer about that, sweet cheeks." says Angel Boy #2.

"Lead the way." smiles Angel, an arm around the shoulder of each Angel Boy.

"Why should such a gathering be deemed worthy of Illyria's presence?" insists Illyria.

"Oh, do it for me." Spike begs not very beggingly.

"Your arguments remain unconvincing." Illyria speaks. "Yet the cub intrigues me. Since my agenda is clear tomorrow, I will consider attendance."

"Yes!" Spike fist-pumps. "Plus one just became plus infinity! Who else is going to be having a goddess on their arm, ey?"

"My indulgence of you will merely be collateral." says Illyria, casually tearing a slit in the fabric of reality. "I have matters to attend to now. Summon me again when the primitive rituals commence."

"Will do, Blue." says Spike, saluting her half-arsedly as Illyria vanishes, closing the reality-gap behind her again.

He sighs and looks at the kitten, who is sitting on the floor again, peering at the bathroom door.

"Thirsty again, little Sheena?"

The kitten looks up at him and licks her lips.

That night, not too far up in the atmosphere, the bug ship hovers, made invisible by highly advanced cloaking technology.

Xghalzgzzhf, conveniently renamed Bertrand recently, is staring out of the small round window and up into the starry sky. If he lets his multi-faceted eyes stray out of focus a little bit, it seems as if there is a billion more of them up there.

These are blessed times. Bertrand thinks of his loved one. He thinks of his scales, smooth and golden green. His gills, a seductive pink on the inside.

He wishes they could embrace right now. But according to King Spike, it's best that Dear Barrett soak for the night. Otherwise he might suffer a dry spell and faint right at the altar! Like something right out of _Love Comes On Leathery Wings_.

Bertrand is a patient man, mostly due to his particularly fast processing of the passing of time, which is common in his species. But the thought that he and his Dear Barrett will continue to be regularly seperated by the cruel surface of water for the rest of their lifespans... it makes his antennae run cold.

And what if they splice? And his spawn will take to the water as easily as his loved one does, leaving him stranded and alone on the safe and dry?

Bertrand looks up at the stars. And he boldly swears to them that he will be the first of his kind to break the aquatic barrier. With his own passion and love running through his carapace and the aid of Our Good King Spike The Wise, he will make the impossible his own.

He will become a water bug.

The next day. The big day.

Barrett has barely slept. All night, he just kept swimming in circles in the generous basin onboard the ship, polishing himself wherever he could, plucking out a few dead scales.

He knows it's pretty vain of him, but oh well. Great Zharta forgives all. As long as you don't mess with the ocean anyway, of course. She knew that love had taken his heart and she had given him her blessing, straight from his favourite maw!

These are blessed times. He had been a bit of a lone seawolf for the longest of times. Griffin and Danny had teased him about his contact ads. And indeed, he should never have limited his scope so much.

It was Zharta that opened his eyes to the unlimited cross-species mating possibilities. Well, her and that intergalactic porn site that he stumbled upon one night. His curiosity piqued, he then ventured out onto and decided to try his luck.

And oh, what sweet fortune befell him! Fucking awesome!

So many facets in his sweet eyes, he never knows where to look, but in each of them he finds the same deep well of tenderness and love.

That brilliant carapace almost makes him feel ashamed of his own blue-green hide. So dazzling in its kaleidoscopic endlessness.

Barrett takes a phenomenal dolphin leap up out of the basin and plunges back into the water with great joy. Holy crap, how in love is he! 3

"Sod this." Spike grumbles, sitting in his desk chair, which he wheels back an inch every five minutes, when the sun reaches in a bit further through the little window. "I'm really going to have to be giving you up today, pet."

The Yuggoth lion cub narrows her orange eyes at him and gently belches. It almost sounds sad.

"Aww, don't look at me like that." says Spike, still wearing only a t-shirt and trousers since this morning. "You're still going to be on my ship and all. Boldly going where no kittie has gone before."

"The final frontier." mews the kitten in as low a voice as she can manage.

Spike laughs. "Borrow whatever you like from my extensive library of cultural references, moggiekins. Just leave some headroom for the grooms."

"Illyria." replies the kitten and tilts her head.

"Yeah, we'll be giving her a ring when it gets dusky." says Spike, noticing that the sunlight is only a few millimeters away from his toes again. He could have put some curtains up or otherwise blocked the little window. But he kind of likes this little game of cat and mouse. Being cooped up in this room, plotting and investigating, it's not exactly his favourite part in the great upcoming battle. So the direct danger of sun to skin is a welcome diversion. It even got a little exciting when he noticed he had left his pencil on the other end of the room. He risked a quick run and dive with the hoodie pulled over his head, heroically rescuing the utensil with only a light burn mark on his left hand to show for it.

The kitten comes up to Spike and sniffs the mark. She then raises a paw and puts it on his hand, saying "Don't think that makes me some kind of deviant, do you?"

Spike pulls away uncomfortably, then pets the kitten's head. "Sorry, pet. But that area's off-limits." He pulls out a cigarette and his zippo. "Even to me."

Spike lights up and clicks his zippo shut. The kitten tilts her head again. Silly cat just keeps reminding him of Illyria now.

Finally he feels his little toe starting to smoulder and he calmly wheels back another inch.

Not far from Spike's flat, but a lot higher up, the bugs are anxiously decorating the ship. The wedding planner isn't there in person, but she has seen fit to send out her personal assistant.

The bugs obediently and enthusiastically follow his every instruction and advice.

"Heh, you guys are just fantastic!" Clem exclaims as he pats a passing bug on the shoulder. "You don't have any idea how much lip I get from meddly folks back down on the surface... I'm gonna ask to be scheduled for bug weddings full-time!"

One bug anxiously buzzes up to him, asking: "Master Clement, would you like us to have the humanoids share a grand table? Or will there be typical humanoid awkwardness?"

"Oh, the awkwardness is all part of the ice-breaking, my friend." assures Clem. "Show me that table map, will you?"

Bug number 23 hands him the sheet and Clem traces every assigned seat with a wrinkly finger. Then he halts.

"Is there a problem?" the bug wonders.

Clem nervously fishes his mobile phone out one of his arm folds and hits speed-dial. "Yeah. Awkwardness off the scale of awkward..."

An hour later, Spike is trying to teach poetry to the kitten. As in, trying to compose a poem with her. Usually, she just repeats his lines. Or says something rude.

"You're a bit too much a copy-cat, you." sighs Spike.

"You." the kitten counters.

"No, you." Spike says.

The kitten belches.

"Easy win." mutters Spike, toking on his cigarette, noticing how the kitten admires the smoke crinkling up in the air.

Spike tuts at her. "You've already taken up enough bad habits of mine, pet."

"Illyria." mews the kitten, looking at him inquisitively.

"Including that one." says Spike.

The sunlight suddenly completely leaves the room, as if somebody threw a switch. Four seconds later, it returns just as abruptly.

"What the bloody hell...?" Spike mutters, standing up and reaching for his hoodie.

Clem hides his face in his palm. "When I said 'send him a signal', I didn't really mean 'blow our entire cover'."

"We only uncloaked the ship for four seconds, Master Clement. I'm sure only the most unnatural of humanoids would have noticed." buzzes bug number six.

"I don't know about that, buddy." says Clem, biting his lip. "Humanoids.. I mean, humans blink a little slower than you guys. And I dunno if they'll believe that we're a weather balloon this time..."

"We apologise." says another of the bugs on the bridge. "Number six means well, but has been reckless since immersing himself in Dukes Of Hazzard re-runs."

Clem sighs. "Oh well. Can you tell whether he's seen us?"

Spike throws on his duster. What are they doing flying this low and then uncloaking? Don't they know this is a private wedding?

He gets out the comm device and looks at the screen. "Oh." he says.

"Look!" bug number twelve calls out, pointing a leg down at the street. "It's King Spike!"

"You sure?" says Clem, leaning forward and peering through the ship's front window.

"Of course!" cheers the bug. "Look at that swagger!"

The sun is already getting low, so Spike has to be careful, even with his hoodie on.

He walks out onto the middle of the road - fortunately this is one of those impopular one-way streets with little traffic - and raises a gloved hand.

"Good, great. He knows we're here." says Clem. "Uhm, can we beam him up or something?"

"Nope." says number six.

"Gosh, this is complicated." sighs Clem, putting a hand to his forehead. "Try his comm thingie again?"

"It's most definitely out of battery, Master Clement." number six replies. "The King is most generous with his social endeavours."

"Can't we send him a message?" suggest Clem. "Somehow?"

Spike risks a quick squint up at the sky. The ship is still up there, maybe a few hundred feet in the air. He can tell by the ozone exhaust trails.

Speaking of which... are those...?

May 27 is a strange day for the London weather stations. Not only have there been reports of a gigantic rogue weather balloon popping up near Soho, but some people swear they have seen the words 'MEET ME IN THE PARK' written in quickly dissipating letters in the sky.

Spike knows that other people will probably have read the message, so he rushes towards Hyde Park at full vampire speed, jinking through traffic and leaping across bushes.

He almost trips over a beggar, but dodges him just in time, flipping a two pound coin into his cup. "Cheers, mate." says the beggar, but Spike is already around the next corner, flying right into the park and speeding towards the usual landing site.

He smells ozone and stops himself just in time, otherwise he would have run face first into the cloaked hull of the bug ship, still warm from passing through the atmosphere.

"Landing in broad daylight..." Spike mutters to himself. "What bug bit these buggers?"

He glances around, but thankfully there are barely any people in sight. So he gives the 'all clear' signal (thumbs-up).

A slight hydrohaulic hiss announces the opening of the back hatch. It is as if a portal is being opened up in the fabric of Hyde Park's reality. Spike takes a run and leaps into it before it is even halfway open.

"Close that." he commands as he lands on the grey-brown metallic floor of the bug ship.

"All Hail King Spike!" several bugs cheer, some of them quite young.

"Closing hatch. Welcome back, Your Highness." the bug at the control panel buzzes.

"I'm not going to be long. My wedding gift is still back there shedding on my mattress." says Spike, patiently shaking the legs of a few young idolators as he walks towards the main corridor that leads to the bridge.

He notices the corridor has been done up rather nicely. White and green ribbons everywhere. A bit Irish for his tastes, but good job.

Then, he smells someone familiar. It couldn't be. Could it? Unlikely. Impossibly unlikely.

Yet the doors to the bridge slide open and there he is. Clem greets him with open arms, skin hanging ubiquitously from them. "Spike! My gosh, I still can't believe it!"

"Clem?" says Spike, stepping forward and catching his old friend into a mostly non-awkward embrace. "How... What are you doing on my ship?"

"Ha! I'll give you the abbreviated version, alright? After Sunnydale turned into a crater, I followed Harmony here to England. I'm her eyes on the inside of every party, if you know what I mean. How cool is this place!" Clem spreads his arms out again, marvelling at the bug ship's interior.

"Glad you like it, mate." Spike smiles. "Still don't smoke?"

"Oh no, thanks, but by all means, fire one up yourself!" Clem says, then sputters: "Oh! Sorry, I – I didn't mean..."

Spike grins and slaps him on the back. "Over it already. I should be the one apologising for burning down your pad, along with the city that came with it."

Clem nods and smiles, still looking a little unsure, in an adorable way.

Spike lights up a cig. "Now tell me what's so important that you made me jog all the way here. Neither of them's got cold feet, right..?"

"Hell no! I've never seen a couple bitten by the love bug this much since... ever! Really! Can't keep their legs off each other!" Clem exclaims, then unfolds a few sheets of paper. "It's er.. the guest list, actually. You gotta have a look at this."

Back in Spike's room, the cub is sitting on the desk, looking down at the handwritten notes. She is particularly attracted by a sketch of some strange symbol. Her orange eyes blaze with recognition.

"Well, lookie here." she mews.

"I don't even know where to begin!" Spike calls out, pacing around and flicking his cigarette away absentmindedly. A bug with a broom and tray immediately scoops it up.

Clem follows Spike around. "I know, I know..."

"Angel is invited?" Spike says incredulously, waving the guestlist around. "And what the bloody hell is _she_ doing here?"

"I know!" says Clem emphatically. "This is going to be a disaster, right? Even if we give them tables at opposite ends..."

Spike breaks into a grin. "Clem, this is going to be the best bloody wedding since the Saint Valentine's Massacre."

"Really?" Clem scratches his chins.

"Absolutely. It'll be like fucking Dynasty. Only thing is that I don't want all this lovely drama to interfere with the wedding itself." Spike's grin narrows to tightlipped thoughtfulness. "And I really don't want her to get hurt. Not in any way."

"Maybe she won't show up." shrugs Clem.

Spike smirks. "I know my girl, Clem. She's been through a lot, but she knows when it's time to party."

Half an hour later, Spike is climbing the stairs back up to his room, a fully recharged comm device in his coat pocket and a lot of intrigue on his mind. Is this Harmony's idea of revenge on Angel? And if so, revenge for what? He's been out of the Earth loop. Who knows what Angel might have done to piss people off this time...

"Hey kittie." says Spike, closing the door behind him.

No reply. No sight of the kittie either, for that matter.

Spike frowns. "Kittie?"

He checks the bathroom. "There you are."

The kitten is sitting in front of the fridge. She turns her head to look at him. "Pub." she says.

Spike squats down next to her and pets her head. "There's plenty more on the ship, pet. But I'll give you the one pack for now, just so you won't be flinging yourself at the necks of wedding guests."

This gets Spike thinking. Just how needy is this kittie anyway? Will a bug and a merman be able to handle a grown-up Yuggoth lion?

Less than an hour before the wedding and now he's asking himself these questions. Maybe he should have just gone for a blender. Spike curses his impulses. He flops a pack of blood onto the floor and the kitten eagerly tears into it.

Then he gets out Illyria's bottle opener.

Barrett is just checking his white and green checkered suit in the mirror one last time when he hears a set of knocks on the door.

"Er, come in, I guess." he says.

"Well, how does this open?" a muffled voice from the other side asks.

"You have to press the button, you starfish." another voice says.

Barrett smiles a very fangy smile and turns to face the door just in time to see it slide open in a neat Star Trek-y manner and see his two best marine buds stumble into the room.

"Danny! Griffin!" he calls out, fangs even fangier with joy as he meets the pair with scaley arms wide open.

"Barrett!" exclaims Griffin, falling into his friend's embrace.

"Barrett!" exclaims Danny, joining them in a cosy three-way hug. "You look like you just crawled out of the slime!"

"Thanks!" grins Barrett. "I try to keep in shape. Just because you become a guardian of the oceans and travel the world doesn't mean you gotta let yourself go. And hey, you look fit as an eel yourself! You too, Griffin."

Danny and Griffin are wearing fine-threaded matching suits, both in a tasteful aquatic blue.

"It's easy to stay trim when you've got mermaids to chase." Griffin says. "Or mermen, of course. Or other men altogether! Sorry!"

"Yeah, how are you planning on spawning, Barrett?" asks Danny.

"No problem." smiles Barrett. "The bug people are really advanced. They had iPhones before even we had them! So they're going to try and splice our genes together with this really cool equipment that they have."

"Wicked sweet!" says Griffin.

"Does it hurt?" asks Danny.

Barrett blinks. "I don't think so."

"Good." nods Danny. "I had some pain last year. It sucked!"

On the dressing table, a little alarm clock disguised as a snow globe starts beeping prominently. Barrett looks alarmed by the alarm. "Oh crud, look at the time! Guys, I have to finish up in here. Why don't you go mingle and indulge in toxic beverages?"

Danny and Griffin grin. "Leave it to us, buddy!"

They pat their friend on the back and share one last hug before they head for the door.

"You are one cool gay marine demon, Barrett!" Danny yells from around the corner as they exit.

Barrett smiles. He has missed his friends. He will continue to miss them. They should marry bugs too.

On the bridge of the bug ship, reality splits open like rotten fruit and Spike and Illyria step out of the crack. In his arms, Spike is carrying the Yuggoth kitten.

"It's King Spike!" buzzes bug number six excitedly. "Quick! Begin producing Unlimited Ultimate Luxury!"

The various other bugs on the bridge drop whatever they're doing and all fall in line for a synchronised dance.

Spike steps forward. "At ease, everybody. I appreciate the intentions, but this is Bertrand and Barrett's day, not mine. Get your beetle bums over to the ballroom."

The bug dancers hurriedly complete their routine and finish with a loud "All Hail King Spike!" before clattering their way towards the festivities.

"I have not seen this degree of worship since I lost my true form." Illyria observes.

"Don't you have a faithful following of potted plants in your apartment?" says Spike, following the bug parade down the corridor.

"They wilted." says Illyria, following him.

The 'ballroom' is a mess hall decorated with ribbons and balloons. A colourful buffet of fruits and vegetables spreads out across various long tables along the sides. Some of the fruits are clearly not of Earth, such as the blue bananas with thin layers of gold fur.

The rest of the hall is filled with strategically placed round tables with seats, many of which are already occupied by bug guests. The place is literally buzzing with excitement.

Danny and Griffin are over at the buffet, pouring themselves some more punch and showing old photos to an interested huddle of bugs.

"King Spike looks so generous and mighty when he salivates in his sleep!" buzzes bug number 39 with great affection.

"Who is the other one?" asks bug number 20.

"That's Angel." hiccups Danny. "He's Spike's mate. And I'm not being British when I say mate!"

Griffin laughs and burps. "Sorry, my bad."

"The King has told us of him." says number 34. "Tales of his supraorbital ridge are near-legendary!"

At that moment, the group of bugs that left the bridge scatter into the ballroom, their leader announcing: "Everybody, stand and hail our Great King Spike!"

A mighty buzzing cheer resounds throughout the hall as Spike, still carrying the kitten, and Illyria enter.

"Also salute his luckiest of companions, the great Illyria!" buzzes the announcer bug. "And I do not know the other creature, but it is best we hail it too!"

Illyria can't suppress the instinct to bask in the cheering, and she strides into the room as regally as she can, blue eyes proud and merciless.

The kitten scans the room intently. Spike pets her head occasionally, whenever he's not shaking hands with enthusiastic bugs.

Clem walks up to them, a glass of purple wine in his hand, and whispers to Spike: "It's taken care of. Courtesy of a little magic trick."

"Magic trick?" frowns Spike. "Who did you hire for the wizardry?"

"We were lucky! That guy over there knew some." Clem points at a grey-skinned demon sitting at a table in the back. "She will not be able to see him and he will not be able to see her. Or smell or hear or taste, for that matter!"

"That's a Fnec demon." says Spike, still frowning. "Why was he invited?"

"I don't know, man!" shrugs Clem. "It's all about the Harm. But trust me, she knows what she's doing."

"I wish I did too." says Spike. "When are the other guests arriving?"

Clem suddenly presses his finger to his ear. "As a matter of fact... one of them has landed right now."

Spike looks a bit anxious now. "Right now? Landed? Who?"

Clem keeps his finger to his earpiece and listens intently for a few seconds. Then he sighs with moderate relief. "Space Lord MF-6142." he tells Spike.

"Oh. Right." says Spike. "So yeah, I think I'd like to talk to your boss now."

"Of course! Let me get her on for you..." he says, pressing a few buttons on his mobile phone and handing it to Spike. "The connection's a little crappy, so you'll wanna speak up."

The phone rings twice before the unmistakably chipper voice of Harmony answers: "Yeah hi?"

"Harmony?" says Spike. "Is this still about that time when I posted those pictures on the Wolfram & Hart intranet?"

Harmony sounds confused. "What? Pictures? Blondiebear, is that you?"

"Grudgingly, yes." Spike wrinkles his nose. "Harmony, torch and pitchfork of my life, would you care to explain what Drusilla is doing at a wedding onboard _my_ spaceship?"

"Groosalugg? No way!"

Spike grits his teeth. "DRU-SIL-LA, you... you person. Please bring the talky bit of your phone closer to your pretty lips. Please."

"Oh yeah! Isn't it amazing?" Harmony audibly grins. "Barrett invited her!"

Spike's jaw is steadily dropping. "Barrett... invited... what?"

"Drusilla!" Harmony squeals.

"Why?" Spike almost shouts.

"Oh, she was a big help cleaning up the West Coast this year." explains Harmony. Spike swears he can hear her filing her nails on the other end. "Drained an entire squad of beach-littering Guh-ger-gagh demons!"

"Right. Right!" bites Spike. "And did it occur to you that she's sort of on being-burnt-alive terms with another prominent guest at this wedding?"

Harmony protests: "You don't have to yell! And speak up! I can't hear a word you're saying!"

Spike opens his mouth, then shuts it again and hangs up the phone. He calmly turns to Clem.

"Clem, is that cloaking spell active?"

"Yeah, yeah, we're good." he nods. "We good?"

"Some right bizarre kind of good..." Spike looks pensive. Then he shrugs. "Let's party then."

Bertrand is in his quarters, applying one last layer of wax above his eyes. He wants to get that blue-green chitinous shine just right. It's really distracting when the bit above one eye is shinier than the other bit. Especially when you look at it through multi-facetted eyes. Barrett's eyes only have one facet. But they're so big! And lovely and unblinking! They must only see the best of sights. And the best of him.

Somebody taps at the door.

"Come in." buzzes Bertrand.

The door slides open and Gary, formerly known as bug number two, steps in. "Greetings, Bertrand! Your time of union is drawing near. Just giving you a heads up."

"Roger that." replies Bertrand. "I'm just perfecting my carapace and then I'll be out."

"Excellent." says Gary. "Are you feeling yet as if you had ingested butterflies, as the King described?"

Bertrand looks at him. "I... I think I'm understanding His Highness. My otherwise slow nerve action feels as if it has awoken into a more acute consciousness."

"How does it feel?" asks Gary.

"I think... it buzzes. How?" Bertrand wonders. "Why?"

"Because that's what it does." says Gary. "Five minutes, my friend."


End file.
